The room buzzed with hushed conversation.
The high-ranking officials, all still reeling from the revelation, spoke in low voices, as if afraid their words might provoke the gods themselves.
Finally, someone asked, hesitant but desperate.
"Miss Ivanka… if our world can attract the attention of two true gods, doesn't that mean our Earth is… special somehow?"
Ivanka shook her head firmly.
"No. Our world isn't special at all. In any aspect."
The blunt denial left them stunned.
"The truth is," she continued coldly, "it's not that our world attracted divine attention. It's simply that two divine powers — their servants, to be exact — took an interest in it."
"The Dark God Hodr's Son descended upon our world with one goal: to slaughter humanity and forge a divine weapon from the blood and souls of billions. To such an existence, our entire species is nothing more than raw material."
A murmur of horror rippled through the room.
"And the emissary of my Lord, the Holy God of Light, Balder, came for one purpose only — to stop him."
Ivanka inhaled slowly, her expression conflicted.
"But let's be honest — neither side truly cares about this world. Not you, not me, not humanity. To them, we're background noise."
That truth landed like a hammer blow.
The pride and authority of the people in that room — men who commanded armies and nations — meant nothing to beings who saw them as ants.
For a long, suffocating moment, no one spoke.
Despair crept over them like a fog.
It was the President who finally broke the silence.
"Miss Ivanka… is there truly no other way?"
Ivanka stayed quiet.
Facing a superhuman like Andrew — already Second-Class Transcendent, perhaps moments away from First-Class — even her divine patron's messenger, wounded as he was, might not intervene again.
The President pressed on, his voice rough but resolute.
"Ivanka, you were born and raised in this country. You don't want to see everything we've built turned to ash, do you?"
He rose, and to everyone's shock — the leader of the free world bowed deeply.
"I ask you, in the name of this nation: please meet with the emissary once more."
The room fell silent again.
After a long pause, Ivanka nodded solemnly.
"…Alright."
"I will try to meet Him again."
"But I have one condition."
"Name it," the President said immediately. "Whatever it is, we'll make it happen."
Ivanka shook her head.
"It isn't for me. It's for all of us."
"I want you to throw everything we have at Andrew. All your forces, every weapon. Even if you can't kill him — you must stop him from ascending to First-Class Transcendent. If he does… it's over."
Her tone carried absolute conviction.
In her mind, even if Balder's emissary lived, he would never risk his life for one insignificant planet.
Everyone in the room understood. None objected.
For the first time, the nation's fractured leadership stood united — bound by sheer survival.
Meanwhile, far away, in the Lakeside Manor, the radiant figure of Balder, the God of Light, watched the White House proceedings through a shimmering light screen.
A faint smile touched his lips.
"The results are even better than I expected," he murmured.
"Seems my little experiment with Andrew was worth the effort."
Without his secret intervention, that boy would never have survived the thermobaric blast.
It was true that certain Second-Class Transcendents possessed near-miraculous resilience — beings like Storm (Ororo Munroe), whose control over weather placed her combat power nearly on par with First-Class, or Darwin, the evolutionary mutant who adapted to any threat.
But Andrew, with only raw telekinesis, was nowhere near that level.
The truth was simple — Balder had interfered.
Before the blast, Balder had discreetly injected a fragment of divine mental energy into Andrew's mind, disguising it as the voice of "Hodr's Dark Son."
The goal: to ensure his "pawn" survived long enough to serve a greater purpose.
Now, that pawn was performing beautifully.
"Still…" Balder's eyes gleamed as he raised his hand.
A small, swirling gray energy sphere floated above his palm — pulsing, almost alive.
It seethed with negative emotion, hate and despair condensed into substance.
"This… is quite the surprise."
It was a byproduct of the Psionic Crystal Andrew carried — the dark residue of emotion that Balder had purged during its creation.
Originally, Balder had planned to purify it later, destroy it entirely.
But now…
He chuckled softly.
"When I guided Andrew, I offered him two paths — slaughter or corruption."
"For someone like him — a boy who suddenly gained power but lacked the will to control it — there was never any doubt. He chose slaughter."
The so-called "divine mission" Balder had given him — to forge a dark artifact through endless killing — had been a lie, a narrative to motivate his descent.
Yet somehow, impossibly, that lie was becoming real.
Through the fusion of Andrew's murderous will and the crystal's residual negativity — and under the invisible influence of human belief — the dark energies were actually starting to refine themselves into a weapon.
Balder's smile widened.
"So this… this is the true terror of faith."
Faith Power — a force so universal it bordered on omnipotence.
It was said that the Almighty Himself achieved omniscience and omnipotence through faith made manifest.
It could mimic anything — creation, destruction, resurrection — a true all-purpose divine force.
Entire pantheons had once been born from it.
And now, through the belief of millions witnessing Andrew's carnage — the idea that "slaughter forges power" — Balder was channeling that same principle.
If that concept spread further, if people truly began to believe that killing forged divine might, then through the resonance of pseudo-faith, Balder might actually obtain a real artifact of darkness.
He closed his hand, the gray sphere vanishing into his palm.
"Good… very good."
"All that's left is for Andrew to keep pushing. To his limits, and beyond."
"When he does… I'll collect every last fruit of his labor."